


dances with demons, waltzes with death

by silveroddity



Series: the hisoillu collection [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Creepy Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Everyone Is Gay, Honestly Hisoka what are you thinking dude, M/M, Minor Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Minor Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight, Princes & Princesses, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, literally though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveroddity/pseuds/silveroddity
Summary: Hisoka Morow is the Crown Prince.Illumi Zoldyck is a misgendered assassin tasked to kill the Crown Prince, invited to a ball.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: the hisoillu collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156376
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	dances with demons, waltzes with death

(quick a/n: when I’m writing Hisoka’s perspective, I’ll be using she/her and Elania for Illumi until he’s found out, don’t @ me lmao)

Death takes everyone, and to a twenty-four year old assassin called _Illumi Zoldyck_ , it was high time it had a taste of a man named _Crown Prince Hisoka Morow._

Actually, that is not true. Illumi cared not for the arbitrary concept of _justice_ and _who deserved what._ Why should he? He was only in the business of being an assassin for two reasons. One, his parents had planned his life out for him, and this is what he was decreed to be. Two, for the money. Therefore, when it came to the Crown Prince, Illumi had no feelings whatsoever, positive or negative. All he was was a job to him, and therefore, when he got the order to kill Hisoka Morow from an unidentified party who commanded him to _just do it and I’ll pay you handsomely_ , he did nothing but give a short nod, sign the contract in green ink, and get ready to carry out his task as he did any other. It did not matter _who_ it was to Illumi.

Initially, he planned to break in stealthily and slip poison into his food, or send needles through the window of the prince’s room. A simple, quick way was perfect, so Illumi could get on with his life, and that would be that. It would be efficient, and largely painless, which was more than Illumi could say for some of his tasks. However…

He was planning this attack when he heard news of a ball coming up. The Crown Prince was unwed ( _and at twenty-eight too, what a shame,_ Illumi thought with a little disgusted twist of his lip and a click of his tongue), and tonight, he was looking for a bride amongst the richest and highest subjects of his kingdom, as well as any other neighboring kingdoms he could think of. Of course, this made Illumi chuckle softly under his breath when he passed the people in the town, cloaked to hide his identity.

However, he could not deny the confusion as an invite was delivered right to his door. A little exhale left his lips as he broke the red wax seal on the invitation and flipped through the invitation made of heavy vellum to read the notecard, past the actual ticket itself done in lavish pink and gold.

It read (in some godforsaken obscure form of calligraphy in reddish pink ink even the sharp-eyed Illumi had to squint to read), _Tonight, we invite the young eligible maiden at this residence to the palace to engage in a night of dancing and socializing with our beloved Crown Prince, Prince Hisoka Morow. Attendance for the lady is mandatory, as is proper attire._

 _Oh. Oh, they thought he was a woman._ His long raven locks spilled down his back like a smooth, glossy waterfall, and he touched them as he read the invitation to the ball, realizing what their thought process was. They had seen only his photo (because one perk of his job was that there was no one in the records called _Illumi Zoldyck,_ so they could not look up his gender), and assumed he was a woman.

This was his perfect opportunity. 

He could get close to the Prince for that night, then he could kill him. Even as he read his invitation, his eyes were obscured by his long curtain of silky black hair, but he let his lips curve up into a little smirk as a plan began formulating itself in his trained mind. This would perhaps be his most fun job of all time. And if he was going to have this be his most fun job of all time, he figured, why not go all out and have fond memories of the night he took down the Crown Prince of the Kingdom?

Night fell and found Illumi in his room, turning this way and that in front of the mirror, holding a large green dress to his body. His long hair was done up in a large updo, long spirals framing his face as he gazed at himself. Because his body was shaped like what he was (a man), he had dressed himself in a corset that wrenched his middle in tightly so his silhouette was a perfect, elegant hourglass. He had stuffed a bra and clasped it around the right place on his chest with only minimal effort, and as he looked at himself, he congratulated the new woman in the mirror. With that, the silk slid on easily over his newly feminine form, hugging his cinched-in waist in all the right ways, accentuating his narrow hips and naturally slim form. 

Now, the makeup and nails were a little bit more difficult, but he managed with a steady hand, and after a moment, his lips were stained the perfect shade of deep red, and his eyelids and nails were coated in emerald and (in the case of his eyelids) gold glitter. 

In his elegantly done hair rested a gold and green tiara, and his neck and ears glittered with jewels in the same shade. The last move was stepping into a pair of green heels with an ornate gold and emerald design done on it. When he looked at himself, he let his red lips turn up into a half smirk as he hid a little green vial of poison in his stuffed bra, plus a handful of needles with pintips. The last touch was a gold and green masquerade mask that he drew over his perfectly contoured, now more delicate and feminine face.

Once he deemed himself lovely enough, he started down the stairs, holding his skirt like a lady. That night, he’d be posing as a woman named Princess Elania-Elizabeth Hart, a princess from a faraway land who came as an eligible maiden for Prince Morow. He, however, would act himself; he needed to be genuine enough to fool the crown prince. 

Either way, he tugged a pair of green elbow-length gloves over his hands and climbed into the carriage drawn by black horses, seating himself elegantly and placing his gloved hands in his lap as the carriage took him to the palace. 

On the way down the sinuously twisting road, he found himself thinking of the Crown Prince. He was a handsome gentleman, with a sculpted face, aquiline nose, sharp, catlike yellow eyes, and a shock of bright bubblegum-pink hair. In addition, his most eligible match (a princess named Machi Komacine) was not at all interested in him, and had turned him down completely flat in front of the whole kingdom. A smirk graced Illumi’s face as he thought about the way the Crown Prince had acted upon rejection by the beautiful woman. As he remembered it, the Crown Prince had proposed in the middle of a parade, and she had given him an incredulous look, him on his knees, then kicked him squarely in the chest and off the float. The Crown Prince had hit the pavement hard, humiliated as the ring skittered away (a pink heart diamond in a gold setting) and disappeared. Legend had it that it was still somewhere on that street. 

Still, for days, the prince had been the talk of the town. All they talked about was the rejection of the prince. Children giggled about it in the streets. Women were far too dignified to giggle, so they tittered about how they would have _loved_ to be Princess Komacine. Men chuckled about how the prince was so sadly deluded, and Illumi in disguise had heard it all in the city. Even now, his smirk widened as he thought about the prince’s goal that night; to regain his fallen pride and find a beautiful bride both lovely and willing to marry him after his little fall from grace. 

Oh, this _would_ be fun.

Meanwhile, at the palace, another man was getting ready and putting on a mask he didn’t want to be donning. The Crown Prince Hisoka Morow sat in his room in front of his dressing room mirror, gazing at himself, telling himself he looked lovely with narrowed eyes and a hard glare on himself.

And he did. His suit was black, formfitting to his gracefully slim shape, with a white undershirt on it and a hot pink bowtie. Not a thing was out of place; his pocket square (with the designs of the card suits printed on it) was tucked neatly into his breast pocket, and everything was pressed neatly. His hair was done in a loosely tousled sort of style, pink locks coming down to frame his angular face nicely. 

He smoothed his hair down and placed a pink and gold mask over his face, then the crown in his hair. That was the real masterpiece of the outfit, showing his status, _his_ place in this world as the king of a coming new era. The piece of jewelry was ornately done, in a setting of gold and pink, glinting in his hair. The pink diamonds cast tinted light all around the room every time he moved, and for once in his life, Hisoka Morow felt regal. He felt as if he was born to lead.

Which he never had believed before. While Hisoka Morow enjoyed the power he held over everyone else, he never truly believed as if he was meant for the shoes he was expected to fill, for the position he was in. A gay king would never have been accepted in the society he was in, and to him, that was it. He’d live out his days married to some princess from a country he couldn’t pronounce the name of, ruling over a country he didn't care about, and lusting after every pretty boy he saw at a ball or going past on a carriage. The life he had planned ahead of him was not enticing in the slightest, but then again, as the king, he didn’t have much say.

Hisoka Morow had no idea of the attendees of the ball. His advisor and his committee had planned the whole ordeal, deciding for him what ladies would be there. Rather, what ladies were _allowed_ to be there. The purpose of this ball was to pile all the eligible rich young women into a room where he could select one to court and eventually marry. It was ensured that each woman was of nothing but the best heritage and blood that she could be. 

It didn’t matter that Hisoka liked boys. Not to his kingdom.

Even as something in Hisoka twisted, thinking about the life he was expected to lead, the life he _would_ lead, he pushed it away and shook his head. He had no way to escape what he was born into, and that was that. To be a gay king was unthinkable, and there was no way out of his legacy. He couldn’t deny, however, the way he wanted to live his life from a new perspective, not from the one where he looked down on life from above like a sort of deity. He wanted to walk the streets, just another person living, doing their best to survive in a world that didn’t want him in it. 

No matter. He was to be king one day, and that was the end of that. With that thought in mind, he straightened his crown atop his head, admired himself a moment longer, then glided out on his heels. 

Twenty-eight and still unmarried. Well, that was soon to change. If he had anything to say about it, that night, he would find his bride amongst the most eligible maidens of his kingdom, and neighboring ones. How hard could it be to choose a beautiful bride, a lovely woman who would bear him children to take over the throne when he and his wife died? Many did it.

How hard could it be, really?


End file.
